Buy Now, Pay Later
by JerBearThompson
Summary: This was what the Universe deemed penance for the life that he should not be living. - Warning: Character death


**Title:** Buy Now, Pay Later  
**Author:** JerBearThompson  
**Rating: **G, but it's sad.  
**Characters: **Jack, mentions of Ianto  
**Warning: **Character death. (I know, I tend to write that a lot)  
**Length: **Only about 1,500 words.  
**Summary: **_This was what the Universe deemed penance for the life that he should not be living._  
**Disclaimer:** BBC, RTD, you guys know the deal.

**Notes:** This was a prompt from a friend of mine who wanted a short story, only one mention of Ianto and Jack's names each, and the Whitlams quote: _Your sadness, it's a thief._

It was weird, the way everything had happened all at once. Here was this gorgeous Welshman who had just stumbled into his life and captured his heart, like he hadn't allowed anyone to do in such a long time. They fell into routine, and they fought and argued and He hated, he _hated_… that he loved this man so much. There were good days, and there were bad days, and at the end of it all they would always have each other to curl up with. Safe, invincible, for one more night.

But not tonight.

It was his first night alone, and he still couldn't quite believe what had happened. It was normal, it had been so _normal._ A car, a drunk driver. It almost seemed unreal, how out of all the things they had defeated over the years, this is what had brought his Welshman down. This, was what the Universe deemed penance for the life that he should not be living.

He supposed he had known, somewhere deep in his heart, that the Welshman's time was coming to an end. He'd tried to ignore it, push it deep down inside of him where he couldn't see the truth in the words. He had begun going through the five stages of grief before the accident had even happened.

By pushing the feeling down, he had first denied that anything was going to happen. Refused to let death be a possibility, and he became overly protective of the young man. Then had come anger, and it was in anger that he demanded the Welshman to go home instead of helping out on their latest mission.

That was the night it had happened. And on the way to the site of the crash, he had bargained with the Universe – the third stage. _'Just let him be okay, I'll do anything, just let him be okay.' _Not a moment after asking the question, the traffic lights in front of him had the audacity to turn red, and he impatiently stared out the window. Next to him sat a store, a large sign sitting outside the door claiming in bold white letters: BUY NOW AND PAY LATER.

The irony of the Universe's answer. He had bought Ianto, as a worker, a companion, a lover. And now the time had come for him to repay his debt. He had taken, and the Universe was forcing him to give it back. It was unfair.

The minute he had reached the crash site to find the ambulance had already taken his lover away, leaving behind only a messy splatter of blood over two mangled vehicle, the depression had set in. Bank, numbing depression, and he had arrived at the hospital not bothering to wipe away the tears trailing down his cheeks.

'Hold on,' had had told the Welshman's still figure, holding on tightly to the cold hand, forcing himself to look at the far too pale face. 'You're going to get through this. Just watch, tomorrow you'll be alright. I'll take you home, we'll spend the whole day in bed, watching movies and making love. It'll be alright if you just hang on.' While he had no doubts that even in his unconscious state, the Welshman had indeed tried to hold onto life with all his might, it was not enough to hold him back from the cold jaws of death. And the captain had accepted that.

Well, he had first kicked over a chair and threatened to shoot the doctor who wanted to take the Welshman's body away. But after that, sitting alone in the empty hospital room, that was when he truly accepted it. It was the final stage, but it was not the end of his grief. He had no doubt he would be going through the whole process again very soon. His grief would withstand all of eternity, like it did every other loved one he had ever lost. It never got easier, and he never got used to it. He never wanted to.

The relationship he had shared with this amazing man was not perfect, and he was not sure if he had even figured out how it worked yet. But it was _his_. And he wouldn't trade it in for the world. It was not perfect, but the raw emotion they had shared was more meaningful than any ideal movie relationship could be. It had lasted, through good and bad, through rain and shine, and they had emerged from each obstacle thrown at them stronger than ever. It was a part of his life he had never wanted to end, but would remember for the rest of his long, long life.

Perhaps he would one day love again, and be able to share with his partner stories about his Welsh lover that would make them both laugh, and his heart would swell just that little bit more. He looked forward to that day, when the ache of sorrow would be dull, and the prospect of loving again would seem bearable. But he knew it would be a long time before he would allow anyone else to stumble so easily into his life.

The rescue team had found a letter in the glove box of his lover's car on the night he could barely remember for disbelief and grief. And he had numbly accepted the letter, even now still sitting on his desk, unopened. It was hard enough just to look at the envelope, stained with rust and what he sincerely hoped was not blood. But he would open it one day, and read what the Welshman had to say.

It was two weeks since the date that he did not care to speak aloud when he finally got up the courage to open the letter, and when he did he instantly wished he hadn't because of the tears that sprang freely to his eyes.

_Dearest Jack,_

I am writing this in the event that I pass away. I have a few things I may not have been able to say to you before that happened, but they are things I need you to know.

1. I haven't checked the fridge in a while, but I'm pretty sure we need more milk. Please do not disregard the importance of its dairy goodness, and get off your arse to go shopping for once. Aisle six is where you will find the biscuits, by the way.

2. Please do not sniff any of my shirts once I'm gone. That would be far too pathetic and sentimental for a man of your status. You are a strong man, and I will not have you sniffing my clothing, you hear me? I mean it. Just incase you would like, however, you may keep all my cologne. Bathroom, second drawer down.

3. Don't go back into your old habits of ordering take-out every night, please. You're more than capable of cooking for yourself and immortal or not, you have to eat your veggies and stay healthy. Which is also why I've thrown out the Coco Pops. I think you should try a more healthy breakfast cereal from now on.

4. Your sadness, it's a thief. Don't let it take your life away from you. You're a strong man, a brave and fierce man, and those people out there need you. They're counting on you, don't let them down. I'm sorry I won't be there to help you out, but it's not the end of the world. And if it is the end of the world, then I'm relying on you to fix it, okay?

5. My fifth and last point. Be brave, be happy, be compassionate, be a hero. This is what you've always been, it's what I hope you always will be. Never stop being who you are, because you're not perfect. And that's exactly what makes you perfect in my eyes. I love you, and don't forget: more milk.

Ianto J.

He sniffed and rubbed his nose with his sleeve, smiling through his tears. It was so like the Welshman to make light of the situation. But he knew he needed someone to tell him off for sulking and neglecting his duties, and he knew the Welshman was the only one with enough nerve to tell him to.

But still, as he slowly set a small wooden box on his desk, adding to the collection of old photos the letter and a picture of himself and a smiling, suited man, he knew this was one more thing he would have no choice but to blame himself for. One more death that he would classify as his fault. Because he knew it was, and the thought plagued him every night when he went to bed, had done so for years. For a while he hadn't, the dark feelings held at bay by his Welshman's strong arms. But right now, in moments like this when he was alone, it hit him harder than ever. One, single thought:

_It should have been me._


End file.
